Free Mated To The Devil by Eve Langlais Page A

white and her son of mixed blood? Would they become the object of racist remarks or snubbing like she’d already suffered from her own family and even strangers on the streets? Or worse, what if Jacques grew to love his extended family, to count on his father, and something happened to change things like Remy marrying someone else and fathering a new family, shunning the son he’d created during a drunken mistake in college? What if he’s already married? For some reason that idea didn’t sit well with her, but she couldn’t have said why.
    More questions than answers filled her brain, thus she wasn’t quite attentive when she picked up Jacques from the neighbor up the street who babysat him. Holding his hand as they made the short trek back to their apartment, it was his growling that snapped her back to awareness just as a dark paneled van pulled up alongside them. The rear passenger door slid open and a pair of men jumped out, their hands grabbing at her and Jacques.
    What on earth?
    Shock momentarily paralyzed her, then rage as one of the strangers roughly grabbed her son. How dare he lay hands on my baby! Motherly instinct kicked in.
    “Let him go!” she yelled. The man complied with an oath not fit for ears but not because of her words. Jacques had bitten him hard enough to draw blood. Distracted by her son’s violent reaction, she didn’t notice the second creep behind her nor could she evade his iron grip. He latched onto her arm and dragged her toward the van opening. She struggled and kicked, yelling, hoping for help, but in this neighborhood, people tended toward deafness and blindness. Not a single sheeted window twitched. Not a single door opened. No one wanted to get involved.
    The sound of Jacques snarling reassured her because it meant they’d not yet succeeded in taking him, but it was his cry of pain that galvanized her. My baby. “Jacques! No,” she screamed. She renewed her struggles, elbowing the man who held her. He didn’t even grunt. Remembering the self-defense classes she’d taken, she dropped to the ground and used her weight to break his hold. Her victory was short-lived.
    A third man and then a fourth came to join the fracas, and despair filled her. She couldn’t prevail against that many. Jacques darted around, nimble and quick, his eyes glowing eerily, but it was nothing compared to the sound he made. He’s howling. The shock of that realization paled, though, in comparison to their situation. The man she’d fought free from grabbed her arm once again, and this time, she couldn’t break his hold. He dragged her toward the van, and resignation reared its ugly head. This is it. The thing I’ve feared for so long has happened. Their secret was out, and now someone intended to take them—by force if necessary. Or was this part of Pierre’s plot to bring them under his wing? Somehow she couldn’t picture Jacques’ grandfather ordering something so violent, not if his grandson stood a chance of getting hurt.
    Lost in her musings, it took a moment for her to register that the hand holding her had slackened. Meaty thumps filled the air, and she peered about wildly. The fourth addition to the impromptu battle as it turned out wasn’t with the wannabe abductors. On the contrary, the Good Samaritan fought all three kidnappers at once!
    Jacques scrambled from the van’s interior where they’d tossed him and launched his small body at her. She caught her son, stumbling back with the force of his leap, but refusing to let go. Hugging him, she let the tears roll down her cheeks as their mysterious savior finished teaching the thugs a lesson, a violent one that she shielded her son’s eyes from. As quickly as the fight began, it ended with three bodies groaning on the ground, bruised and bloody. Good. They deserved it for what they’d tried to do.
    Opening her mouth, her words of thanks got caught in her throat as the stranger raised his head, revealing eyes that glowed. As for his